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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28113747">warm spaces, warm places</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Matriaya/pseuds/Matriaya'>Matriaya</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>All Elite Wrestling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, Titty Fucking, but they can't talk about feelings, chuck is a sucker for trent's man titties</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 23:01:35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,258</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28113747</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Matriaya/pseuds/Matriaya</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>They never talk about it when they fuck. <br/>It’s never planned, either.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Trent Barreta/Chuck Taylor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>42</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>warm spaces, warm places</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/hogiesthogmoment/gifts">hogiesthogmoment</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Happy birthday, hogiesthogmoment!! I hope you enjoy this gift of Trent's truly spectacular titties.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>They never talk about it when they fuck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s never planned, either.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Usually, they get back to the hotel room, ragged around the edges from a match, or a night of heavy drinking, ready to collapse into bed, and one of them makes a move. It’s usually Chuck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He waits until the tv is on, usually whispering out a cooking show on low, waits until Trent is showered, and sprawled out on the bed, relaxed, or at least moving towards relaxation, and then slips over to Trent’s bed, hovers over him, waiting for a silent consent. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He never just takes, which Trent finds kind of surprising, since Chuck has no problem taking and taking in every other aspect of life, be it in the ring or out. The most he ever acknowledges what they’re about to do is the pause as Chuck stares down at him, blinks, waits for that slow nod. And it’s always a nod. Trent has never said no, will never say no, but Chuck asks every time anyway. Then he’s on him, mouth fastened on his, or on his neck, or on his collarbone, anywhere there is exposed flesh. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Trent takes a secret pleasure in Chuck undressing him, in the savage way Chuck barely stops kissing him to rip his shirt off over his head, toss it aside. Even before they started fucking, they knew every inch of each other by heart; had to, to function as a proper tag team. When Chuck straddles his hips, lets his full weight rest in Trent’s lap, holds him down on the bed by the forearms so that his tongue can trace Trent’s collarbones, down to his nipples unimpeded, he already knows that when he licks over his hard nipples, Trent will buck up off the bed a little. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s beautiful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s awful.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Trent aches for the moment when Chuck crosses the room. His whole body stays tense, on edge, on fire until Chuck’s lips meet his skin, and it burns him, with desire, with shame, because he shouldn’t need this as much as he does.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He nods, a silent yes, a silent </span>
  <em>
    <span>please, god,</span>
  </em>
  <span> and tonight, Chuck moves slow, dropping his head down to lick a slow, hot stripe up the side of Trent’s neck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wanna fuck those tits tonight,” Chuck whispers in his ear. “Can’t stop thinking about it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One hand is fisted in the pillow next to Trent’s head, the other reaches down to rub a thumb under his defined pec, smooths over the tan skin, skirting around the nipple. Fuck, Trent’s nipples are so sensitive, and Chuck always uses it to his advantage. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Trent doesn’t miss the way Chuck’s lips graze his cheek for a moment, soft and tender before moving to his mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They don’t talk about that either.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They never do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The way it’s just heat and friction and a warm mouth until suddenly and without warning, it becomes more, just for a moment. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Trent grabs the back of Chuck’s neck hard, letting his nails dig into the soft flesh there, and yanks their mouths together, fucking loves the way Chuck groans into him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do it,” Trent growls. It should be degrading, maybe, having his tits fucked like some girl, it shouldn’t get him so painfully hard every time Chuck gives them attention, but shit, it really does.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chuck lets out this half pleased little whine that punches Trent in the gut, and then Chuck’s scrambling to pull off his pants and his boxers, nearly knees Trent in the face in the process. Trent shoves him a little with a laugh because the last thing they need to explain to makeup in the morning is how he got that black eye. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the background, Guy Fieri talks about his favorite place to eat cheeseburgers. Trent wishes he could throw something at the tv, turn it off so that only the addictive sound of Chuck’s panting filled the room, but how would he even go about explaining that? Instead, he does his best to block out Guy’s annoying voice as Chuck straddles his chest. Trent pushes himself up against the headboard, brings his chest up to dick height, and pushes his tits together.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s not exactly ample cleavage, but it’s enough for Chuck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So fucking pretty,” Chuck murmurs. He shifts a little, one hand on the headboard, the other on Trent’s shoulder as he positions his dick and thrusts up. Trent can feel Chuck’s fingers tighten against his flesh. Why is this so hot? Chuck groans way louder than he means to, and Trent can hear the thunk of his forehead against the top of the leather headboard. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Trent presses an open mouthed kiss onto the jumping muscles of Chuck’s abs. He wishes he could grab a whole handful of Chuck’s ass, urge him forward, but he keeps his hands at his pecs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jeee-sus,” Chuck whines. Trent loves when his voice goes high like that, like he can’t quite help himself. Precum is smeared across Trent’s chest. He pulls back to watch the head of Chuck’s dick disappear into the tiny cave of his tanned flesh, push back out again, angry and red and so fucking hot it scalds Trent’s skin. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chuck shifts a little. The hand on Trent’s shoulder moves to his hair, and Chuck tips his head back a little roughly, then leans down to press an open mouthed kiss against his lips, more hot breath and groan than actual kiss but Trent leans up into it anyway, slides his tongue into Chuck’s mouth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The bed is obscenely loud beneath them, squeaking, creaking,  and only gets louder as Chuck thrusts harder, hips pistoning. Chuck makes a low keening noise in his throat. He’s close, Trent knows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On a ragged, indrawn breath, Chuck whispers “gonna come on your tits” and gives Trent this smile that shifts the whole world just a little bit sideways, and Trent can’t do anything but nod at him, open mouthed, a little dazed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chuck pulls away, gives himself a few more strokes, and groans out his orgasm, coming hard all over Trent’s chest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Guy Fierri’s voice comes back in for a few seconds as Chuck leans back on his heels, takes a moment to breathe, long neck bent in a beautiful line. Trent wants to run tongue along it, taste the sweat gathered there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t though.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That was awesome,” Chuck grins when he remembers how to speak again. Trent wipes the cum off his chest with an edge of the flimsy hotel blanket. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chuck yanks Trent’s sweats down, crawls between his legs, and blows him, fast and efficient, just the way he knows Trent likes it, with a lot of tongue and a small scrape of teeth, and Trent holds his head down and fucks down his throat when he comes. Chuck gags a little, and maybe Trent likes that too. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s wrung out and come-drunk by the time Chuck goes back to his own bed, can still feel tingling in his fingertips. He doesn’t ask Chuck to stay, and Chuck doesn’t offer. Never offers. But fuck, Trent wishes he would.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wishes he could fall asleep with his face tucked into Chuck’s neck, soft and safe. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Someday, he tells himself as he drifts off to the sounds of commercials, someday he’ll get up the nerve to ask. Someday, when Chuck leans down to kiss him, Trent will just kiss him for the sake of </span>
  <em>
    <span>kissing him</span>
  </em>
  <span>, not as a prelude to fucking. Just because he wants to. Because it makes him happy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just not tonight. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
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